


Gedin’la

by Cryo_Bucky



Series: "Kandosii'la" and other words Boba Fett doesn't know. [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Getting Together, Hair-pulling, M/M, Minor Angst, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Resolved Sexual Tension, Semi-Public Sex, Subspace, communication is key, extremely brief mentions of choking, just enough plot to keep things rolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryo_Bucky/pseuds/Cryo_Bucky
Summary: Gedin’la - Cranky, in a mood- lit. Almost insane.Din isn’t good at asking for what he wants. Doesn’t even seem to know what that might be until it’s slipping through his fingers. Wanting isn’t something he’s used to, and realizing his own wants may be beyond him. It hits him at strange times, the things he doesn’t know.Din uses his words, and Boba rewards him.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Series: "Kandosii'la" and other words Boba Fett doesn't know. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087310
Comments: 30
Kudos: 346





	Gedin’la

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately the sex swing does not make a reappearance in this section. I haven’t forgotten about it however, don’t worry!  
> I’m already part of the way through a part 3 from Boba’s POV as well! 
> 
> If I forgot a tag or have any horrible grammar issues please let me know. This is un-beta’d.

Things sit in a strange sort of limbo once they return to Tatooine. Din feels lighter than before as he matches his steps to Boba’s on their return to the castle, but one look from Fennec and Din knows that she knows. It shouldn’t matter, it _doesn’t_ , but it’s enough to make Din feel seen, and he breaks his stride, murmuring an excuse before disappearing into the winding halls. 

Unfortunately if Din thought one chance to feel Boba’s hands in him would be enough to satisfy the need clawing in his chest he has never been so wrong. Now that he knows the exact sensation of Boba’s rough hands on him it’s all he can think about. Not that there is much for him to do _besides_ think about it while they’re back in the castle. 

He does not hide from Boba - he’s just exploring the castle. And if it takes him several days to do so it’s just because he’s being thorough. There’s a courtyard on one of the mid levels that’s open to the sky but shaded from the intense heat of the midday sun by the walls around it. It’s out of the way and peaceful, or as peaceful as any place in this castle can be. Din starts spending time there, sitting in the cool, soft, sand to meditate or working through the forms he had learned in the fighting corps with his new spear. It gives him something else to focus on besides his own stagnation. He doesn’t need to be here. If he’s honest with himself there are many reasons that he should move on; but he stays. 

Finishing the last turn of the sequence Din feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he barely resists the urge to whip around. Someone is watching him, but there are only a few people that it can be, and he finds he doesn’t much care who it is. Maybe if it’s an enemy they’ll shoot him in the back. He’s finished anyway, shoulders and thighs burning with exertion from working through the movements slowly while balancing his spear. At least the exhaustion keeps his mind from racing. When he finally turns he catches sight of Boba leaning against one of the pillars, dark green armor fading him into the shadows. Dusting the sand off his flight pants Din crosses the courtyard in long strides. No point in ignoring Boba - if he’s here then he probably wants something. 

“You should find some sparring partners.” Boba calls once Din gets close enough. 

“That you volunteering?” 

“You want me to?” Boba turns to fall in step with Din as he moves down the hall, still brushing sand from his clothes. 

“No. I’ve been knocked on my ass enough lately.” Din says, doesn’t look at him, just continues along the winding corridors toward the room that he has unofficially claimed for himself. Not that there's anything for him to put in it. 

Boba steps neatly in front of him and Din almost continues forward into him, stopping and taking a half-step back. 

“You’re hiding from me. I want to know why.” Boba doesn’t mince words, and Din should have expected this. 

With Boba in his helmet Din can’t get a read on him, but he’s also relieved that he doesn’t have to try and meet Boba’s gaze. 

After several long moments Din says, “I’m not _hiding_.”

Boba reaches for him and Din’s grip tightens on his spear. Boba slowly lowers his hand, head tipping slightly to the side in obvious confusion. 

“Do you regret it?” Boba’s voice has taken on a tone that Din isn’t sure he’s heard before, it’s impossible to decide what it means with his face hidden beneath his impassive helmet. Din has always been skilled at reading emotions without seeing someone’s face, but Boba seems to be always tripping him up. 

“No.” Even through his vocoder Din’s voice sounds clipped and harsher than he means. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, he shifts to step past Boba and instead Boba grabs a fist full of his high collar and backs him up into the sandstone wall. If it were anyone else Din would be fighting tooth and nail, but he doesn’t want to fight to break Boba’s hold. It makes heat shoot up his neck as Boba crowds into his space, other hand splaying over the curve of his breastplate as their armor clinks together. All he can think of is the _last_ time that Boba had him backed into a corner. Despite the fact that Boba is a few inches shorter he’s so broad that Din simply wants to melt against him just to feel surrounded by the impenetrable wall of him. 

“I’m not letting you hide from me. You have a problem with me, you tell me to my face.” Boba sounds angry and Din doesn’t understand. Even if he _was_ hiding - which he’s not - why would it upset Boba? It’s Din’s problem that he needs to work through. He genuinely didn’t think that his disappearance would upset the man. 

“I don’t have a problem.” Din says, surprised by how steady his voice still sounds despite the way that his insides are wriggling. He might have a problem if Boba keeps his fingers against his throat like that, however. The vivid image of Boba’s fingers worming beneath the fabric to press against his pulse, maybe even wind around his throat-

“And if you did, you would tell me.” Boba isn’t asking, but he loosens his grip on Din, hand trailing its way down before he steps away. 

Din fights to keep his breaths shallow enough to keep his vocoder from picking them up. Boba is giving him an open invitation, an in to ask for something if he wants it. What he _wants_ is to drop to his knees and beg Boba to touch him again, but his pride won’t let him ask. He had been fine before, he could be fine now. 

Boba is still standing close enough to be nearly touching, all Din would have to do is lean forward, or reach out, but he doesn’t, can’t. It’s childish, and he hates the back and forth pull of it - wanting the intimacy and yet denying himself the chance. He can’t- His hold on his spear tightens again, the leather of his glove squeaking. 

Boba doesn’t look down at the sound, but he does reach out again, brushing the back of his hand over the sharp edge of Din’s helmet. It’s so achingly tender that Din almost swings the spear up in reflex, but merely tenses. 

“I’m not going to force you to come to me. But if you keep hiding from me I won’t seek you out.” 

Din’s heart flutters. Boba giving him another out - if he’s uncomfortable he can just walk away. No harm done. But he doesn’t want to walk away. While the idea of intimacy is new and alarming, makes him want to hide from it like a frightened animal, he craves it. Not just nameless intimacy, but this, with Boba. 

The hand not holding his spear comes up to cover Boba’s, pressing it into the space between his helmet and his pauldron, he leans into the touch, head tipping as Boba’s thumb skirts the edge of his collar. Just like before it threatens to send him to his knees. 

“You can ask me. I’ll say yes.” Boba’s voice is quiet, and Din wishes that he wasn’t still wearing his helmet so that he could see Boba’s face. 

“I don’t know what to ask.” Din can’t hide the way that his voice breaks over the words and the movement of Boba’s thumb stops. 

“When you figure that out.” Boba leans into him, touching their foreheads together, “You tell me.” 

His fingers slide further under the fabric at Din’s throat brushing skin, and Din feels suddenly dizzy. It takes several moments for him to realize that Boba is still talking. 

“-what _I_ want. Can’t stop thinking about the pretty noises you make when you come. Or how nice your lips are. Can’t stand everyone gazing at you with such wonder all the time. Makes me want to put you at my feet like a pretty kept boy, maybe give you a pet while I discuss terms-“ 

Din gasps, heat rushing down his spine and the hand not still desperately clutching his spear comes to rest on Boba’s hip, pulling him in until they’re pressed as closely together as they can be in their armor. Boba hasn’t stopped talking, murmuring quietly enough that the words almost become indistinguishable beneath his helmet. Din catches enough though, ears burning even as he tries to resist the urge to roll his hips, achingly hard from just a few touches and Boba’s deep accented voice whispering to him. A desperate noise slips from his chest before he can choke it back. 

“You’re always so sensitive.” Boba’s voice lilts through a soft chuckle that leaves Din trembling. “Think you can come like this? Just from me feeling you up?” 

Maker, but Din already feels on-edge. He whines, voice crackling through his helmet as Boba shifts them just enough to get a hand between their bodies. Din gasps again, head spinning as Boba gropes at his aching cock. Even through his flight suit it almost feels like too much. 

His breathing is extremely loud in his helmet, and Din is fervently glad that Boba is holding him up, bracketing him in with one arm and murmuring encouragement as Din brings one leg up to hook around his thick thigh. 

“Maybe next time I’ll get you naked again. Mark you up. Would you like that, _Din’ika?”_

Din is trembling like a leaf, and he can’t hold back the desperate noises he’s making. He would love nothing more than that, to feel Boba’s hands on him again. His teeth sinking into his skin- 

“I’m- ah-“ Din can’t get the words out, can’t get any words out past the roaring in his ears. He clings to Boba, hips twitching as Boba grinds the heel of his hand against Din’s cock. It only takes a moment more before he chokes back a moan and comes in his pants. It should be humiliating, but Din can’t feel anything but the rush of endorphins as he shakes through the aftershocks, body singing with the joy of touch. 

Boba is still softly praising him, and Din trembles anew with each word. _Good, pretty, so lovely, mine._

Din finally manages to pry his eyes open and freezes, going stock still when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. 

Boba turns, not letting go of his crushing hold on Din, perfectly relaxed even as Din pushes ineffectively at his chest. Fennec doesn’t move any closer, just stands with her arms crossed, looking entirely unruffled. 

“Sorry to… disturb you.” Fennec raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, “But there’s a situation.” 

“I’ll be there.” Boba says it in the same way you might comment on a particularly heinous pile of dung being dropped at your feet. But Din’s ears are still ringing even as shame claws its way up his neck. 

Giving a tiny nod Fennec disappears again, and Din shoves at Boba with increased determination. He finally moves away, letting Din wobble on his own. 

“Sorry to cut things short. Next time I’ll make sure we’re not disturbed.” Boba touches their foreheads together and then turns and disappears down the hall. 

Din leans back against the wall, still feels shaky even as he tries to steady his breathing. It seems like once he’s given just one ounce of Boba’s direct attention he falls apart like a rusty droid. He needs to be more direct. Clearly hiding from himself isn’t going to cut it. First however, he needs to spend some time in the bath - maybe wash his clothes. 

_——————————————————-_ _——————————————————-_

It’s been a few days - long enough for Din to gather his thoughts. Thankfully Boba had been called away, splitting his time between re-establishing trade lanes and organizing the rather generous tithes from his new subjects. Bib Fortuna had fallen into a lot of power, but had no idea how to wield it. It seems that Boba was well-equipped to bring the underworld to heel. 

Now Din sits on the throne in the empty room, posture relaxed despite his racing thoughts, regarding the cavernous space and trying to resist the urge to bounce his knee. He has a plan, he’s going to stick to it. He’s going to _talk_ to Boba like a grown adult. 

He can hear the clink of Boba’s spurs, and the low murmur of conversation long before he sees Boba and Fennec making their way down the winding staircase. Sitting a bit straighter Din gazes at them as they approach him. 

“What a nice surprise.” Boba rests his hands on his hips, giving Din an obvious once-over even though his helmet. 

Din swallows before responding, refusing to let his voice shake. He was the one on the throne, he could do this- “I’d like to request a private meeting with the king.” 

“And you do that by sitting in my place?” Boba stalks forward, and Din’s fingers tighten on the arms of the throne. 

It’s impossible for him to take his eyes off Boba as he ascends the short steps to stand before Din, bracketed by his thighs. He hadn’t seen Fennec leave, but sure enough she has melted into the shadows. 

“Well?” Boba prompts, lifting one hand to touch his finger to the chin of Din’s helmet, tipping his head up to meet their gaze, “I don’t think the Mand’alor really needs to request anything at all.” 

Din shivers at the way that Boba’s voice has gone deep and steely, swallowing thickly once more. 

“I-“ He can’t get any more words out. So much for his carefully worded plan. 

“Well, _Alor’ika_? Tell me what you want of me.” Boba’s voice is a low, pleased rumble and it makes Din burn. 

Din shifts his hands to Boba’s waist, tugging him down into his lap and soaking up Boba’s pleased sigh. 

“Want you.” Din growls, “Want to taste you.” He pulls Boba closer, rolling their hips together. Boba’s fingers tighten on his shoulders, the leather of his gloves squeaking against smooth beskar. 

“You have me.” Boba murmurs, softer than Din had expected, but he barely has a moment to mull the words over before Boba is continuing, “Look pretty good on a throne. Though I think you’re too nice to be leader of the underworld.” 

“You’re nice to me.” 

“Count your blessings.” Boba’s hands come up to press more tightly against Din, and it’s all Din can do not to moan when Boba rolls their hips together. 

“Fuck, Boba-” Din’s voice comes out somewhat garbled through his vocodor, and he digs his fingers harder into Boba’s hips. 

“Maybe not here.” Boba doesn’t struggle against Din’s hold, simply relaxing into it and bracketing him in with his arms and his thick thighs, “I don’t think anyone else deserves to see your soft skin.” 

Din shivers, nodding sharply and loosening his hold so that Boba can slide back down. It only takes a moment for Boba to grab his hand and tug him to his feet. It’s not often that Din thinks of the fact that he has a few inches of height on Boba, but for once the difference seems glaring. Boba leans into his space, leaning up to tap their helms together and Din can just pick up his low chuckle. It makes heat crawl up Din’s neck. 

He hasn’t been to the wing of private rooms that Boba occupies. Boba is rarely there anyway, and while Din had peeked down the hall in his initial exploration that was as far as he’d gotten. It’s clear that Boba hasn’t spent much time decorating yet, the large main room is almost empty except for a few disorganized trinkets and an impressive bed piled with pillows. Clearly Boba has his priorities. 

Din pauses, hand slipping from Boba’s as he stands awkwardly, fingers twitching without anything to hold on to. Boba turns to him, stepping into his space once more and bumping their helmets together. Din feels himself sag into the contact, and Boba doesn’t move away, letting Din have a long moment to breathe. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” Boba says, hands coming up to curl around Din’s waist. They’re so broad that Din feels like they could meet in the middle around him. 

“Still not sure what I want.” Din shivers when Boba’s hand slides up his side to worm under the edge of his helmet, the seal whining as Boba brushes the tips of his fingers over his jaw. He should push Boba away... 

“Not asking you to take this off. But maybe something else?” Boba looks up at him and Din presses their foreheads together again. 

It strikes Din suddenly that Boba has _never_ asked him to take his helmet off. Never even made mention of it. Only ever teased him about being pretty even without seeing his face. It strikes something deep in Din’s chest and he pulls Boba closer with a low rumble of pleasure that barely escapes his vocoder. 

“Want to kiss you.” Din admits, licks his lips at the idea. 

Boba wastes no time in removing his own helmet, tossing it expertly onto the bed where it bounces once and then settles, then he looks back up at Din, the smirk on his lips making his eyes crinkle. 

“Want to cover my eyes like last time? Might have something I can use-“ 

“No.” Din touches his cheek and Boba stills, eyes widening. When he reaches for his helmet Boba grabs his hands, a wounded noise bubbling up from him. 

“Don’t-“ 

Din stops, head tilting in confusion. “Do you not want to see?” 

Boba gazes up at him with such intensity that Din feels as if he can see right through his helmet anyway, right to the core of him. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you… have to. It really doesn’t matter to me if you want to keep it on. I’d love to see your pretty face, but I don’t need to.” Boba’s smirk has slid into a real smile and Din feels his heart skip in his chest. 

“Get undressed.” Din’s voice is more of a growl than he expected, and this close he can watch Boba’s pupils dilate and his smile transition back into that crooked smirk. 

“So demanding. I think I remember you saying something about a taste?” Boba watches him as Din loosens his armor with practiced motions, both of them half-distracted with watching the other undress. 

After far too long for Din’s liking he’s down to his underclothes, watching Boba take a seat on the edge of the plush bed and flop down, stretching his arms over his head and sighing as his back pops. 

“So what-” Boba stops, blinking up at him as Din shoves his knees apart and hovers over him, leaning down to press his face into the hollow of Boba’s throat. He shivers at the cold beskar against his skin, hand coming up to cup the back of Din’s neck. Din merely leans against him, soaking up Boba’s warmth and sighing happily when Boba scratches at the back of his neck. 

“We can take it slow, if you want.” Boba says, and Din can feel the rumble of his voice against his chest. 

“No.” Din lifts his head, lifting Boba’s arm from the back of his neck to drape it over his eyes. 

Boba licks at his lips when he hears the hiss of the seal on Din’s helmet, and Din wastes no time in swooping down to kiss him, groaning into his mouth when Boba’s other hand comes up to tangle his fingers tight in Din’s hair and tug. Din manages to wiggle his way out of his remaining clothes, pressing open-mouth kisses across the curve of Boba’s collarbones and digging his blunt nails into Boba’s thigh when he wraps his legs around Din’s hips to pull him closer. Pressed this close Din can feel just how hard Boba is against him and it makes his mouth water. 

It’s like melting, burning up in atmosphere, and Din doesn’t know how he’s gone this long without it. Boba’s skin is rough where he’s covered in scars, but so soft everywhere else, and Din can’t get enough, brushing the tip of his nose against Boba’s ribs just to feel him twitch. 

“Ticklish?” 

“Not on your life.” Boba pets at his hair again and Din leans into it, turning his head to suck two of Boba’s fingers into his mouth, grinning around them at the punched-out groan that it elicits, “Put your bucket back on, and I’ll suck your cock.” Boba has kept his arm firmly over his eyes, but Din can feel the way the muscles in his thighs are twitching. He’s aching to move. 

Din leans away from him, grabbing his helmet with some reluctance and sliding it back on, reaching over to tap Boba’s arm. 

Boba doesn’t waste a second, rolling and grabbing Din in one smooth motion to plant him on his back, somewhat diagonally across the mattress. Din runs his hands across Boba’s shoulders and up his neck, soaking up the ability to just _touch_. 

“You said you wanted to learn, how about a hands-on demonstration?” Boba is grinning at him, and Din wants to live in that sensation, of being gazed at with fondness. It’s like the first swallow of cool water after a day spent in the hot sand, soothing him from the inside out. He pets at Boba’s cheek and Boba’s eyes go somewhat unfocused, sagging into the sensation. 

“Alright,” Boba presses a sharp kiss to the inside of Din’s wrist, “Let’s get this show on the road. You tell me if you need to stop.” He grabs Din by the hips and shoves him further up the bed, a snort of laughter leaving him when Din lets out a surprised squeak. He isn’t used to being moved so easily. 

“B-ah!” Din gasps sharply as Boba swoops down and presses his teeth into the tender skin on the inside of Din’s thigh, hard enough to leave a mark but not to break the skin. He follows it up with a gentler kiss, and Din fists his hands in the sheets to keep from squirming, cursing under his breath as Boba takes his cock in hand. 

“Are you paying attention?” Boba lathes his tongue along the underside of Din’s cock and Din feels his eyes cross. 

“Fuck- you want me to take notes?” Din’s hips jump when Boba swirls his tongue around the head, but Boba simply pins him down with an arm across his belly, easy as can be. 

Boba takes his time, seemingly perfectly content to touch every inch of Din he can reach. Only when Din growls out a desperate sound does he seal his lips around the head of his cock again, sliding his way down. The _wet-hot-tight_ sensation hits Din like a blow to the chest, and he curls as much as he can under Boba’s weight pinning him down, a wounded noise escaping him. 

Boba doesn’t let up, only spurred on by the noises that Din can’t choke back. It’s so much all at once that Din feels like he’s going to combust. His helmet abruptly feels too small, and he chokes on a breath, breaking the seal and tipping it up just enough to suck in fresh air directly, slapping his hand over his mouth as another moan bubbles up in his chest. Boba stops, and Din doesn’t need to see to know he’s got his eyes on him. 

Boba pulls away and Din whimpers, breathing hard already. 

“Don’t cover your mouth. Wanna hear you.” Boba reaches up and gently loosens Din’s hand, tangling their fingers together for a moment before resettling himself between Din’s thighs and swallowing down his dick. 

“Fuck!” Din’s hands jump to Boba’s head, not pushing or pulling, just needing something to anchor himself to. Boba is merciless, finding the things that make Din’s eyes cross and exploring each one until he’s shaking like a leaf. Din is sweating, feeling flushed and oversensitized already, tingling all over. He’s trying to keep the volume down but every time he chokes back a whimper Boba pinches at his thigh and makes him keen. 

Din’s orgasm hits him all at once, and all he can manage is a choked noise of warning before the darkness of his helmet explodes into sparkles behind his eyes. 

Boba doesn’t let him off easy, suckling at the head of his dick even as the pleasure tips over into overstimulation. Din gives a cry of protest, shoving at Boba’s shoulders. 

“Boba, ah- stop.” 

Boba immediately pulls away, and Din pushes his helmet back down so that he can see, still breathing hard. 

“Sorry, it was...too much.” Din is still shivering, heart thundering in his chest. 

Boba grins at him, pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee and giving Din several long minutes to catch his breath. 

Once Din doesn’t feel like his heart is going to leap from his chest anymore he sits up, pressing his forehead to Boba’s. “My turn?” 

Boba chuckles, hot breath momentarily fogging up Din’s visor. “I’m not going to tell you no.” 

Din pushes him onto his back, straddling his thick thighs and taking several long moments to simply enjoy feeling him up. Boba relaxes into the sheets, one arm behind his head. 

“Guess you’ve got dark hair.” Boba scratches his blunt nails through the short hairs that adorn Din’s chest, and Din is struck all at once that Boba is seeing him for the first time. 

Sure they had been naked on the Slave but it was so dark and there were other things at hand to focus on. For the first time Din feels the strangeness of his own situation. Here he is, bare as can be in front of someone he cares for, sharing something intimate, but Boba has never once seen his face. It’s almost enough for him to reach for his helmet, his hands even jumping halfway there before the anxious voice deep in the back of his head stays them. What if Boba finds him disappointing after all this? He’s never had to worry about his appearance, it doesn’t matter what he looks like under his helmet anyway. He isn’t vain, but the thought of Boba looking at him with disappointment has his chest painfully tight. 

“Did I lose you?” 

Din shakes his head, licking his lips and sliding down to lay on his belly between Boba’s spread legs. Boba is gazing down at him, comfortable as can be. 

“I can’t see if I tip my helmet up.” Din says, waiting for Boba to catch his meaning. 

“Oh, yeah.” Boba shifts, throwing his arm back over his eyes. 

Din removes his helmet again, squinting slightly at the increased brightness of the room, and sets it within easy reach, pressing a wet kiss to Boba’s hip and grinning when he twitches. 

“Tell me if I’m...doing it right.” Din rubs his thumb under the crown of Boba’s cock before flicking his tongue out to catch the wetness that beads at the tip. It’s not unpleasant, and he finds he likes the way that Boba’s thighs twitch when he swirls his tongue around the head the way that Boba had to him. Wrapping his hand around the base to steady it Din tries to remember what else Boba had done. 

“You can’t really do it wrong- ah- just don’t use your teeth.” Boba sighs happily when Din sucks the head into his mouth, “Don’t try to take too much.” 

Din quickly finds that out, pulling back as his throat spasms, threatening to make him gag. 

“Yeah, that’ll happen.” Boba’s voice has taken on that pleased rumble again and Din doesn’t need to look up to hear his smirk. 

Din grumbles and tries again, focusing on just the head and bringing his hands into the mix to make up the difference. He keeps a sharp eye on the things that make Boba’s thighs jump around him, or the fingers of the hand that rests on his belly to twitch. After a few more minutes of exploration he manages to find a rhythm, drinking up every soft noise that Boba makes. Boba’s cock is thicker than his own, and Din finds that his jaw is aching at the stretch. It isn’t at all unpleasant, and Din relaxes into the sensation. 

“Ah, just like that…” Boba sighs, the hand on his belly sliding down to brush over the corner of Din’s mouth before sliding into his hair. Din melts into the touch, pulling away with a wet pop. 

“You can pull my hair.” His voice comes out in a rasp, and Din swallows a few times trying to clear his throat. 

“I can, can I?” Boba is grinning, Din can just see the curl of it from his angle as he sinks his lips back down onto Boba’s thick cock. 

Din isn’t quite prepared for the sensation of Boba grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging. It pulls him back up and off him, and lets the embarrassingly loud moan he can’t contain out into the room at full volume. 

“Fuck, that’s pretty.” Boba’s arm over his eyes twitches, and Din’s eyes flick to his helmet. No, he doesn’t need it. 

Once Boba loosens his hold on him Din sinks back down, a groan building in his chest as Boba uses his grip on Din’s hair to very gently move him how he wants. He doesn’t push Din’s head down more than he can take, but it’s enough for Din to feel like it’s out of his control. He sinks into the feeling, the tingling pleasure of making someone else feel good leaving him floating. He trusts Boba not to push him too far, more than happy to let him take the reins. 

“So good for me…The mouth on you, _fuck_.” 

Din lets the praise wash over him, his thoughts an unhurried and quiet hum as he lets Boba move him how he pleases. It’s nice not to have to worry, just live here in this warm bubble of pleasure and the rumble of Boba’s voice. He whimpers when Boba’s grip on his hair goes tight again. 

“Oh-” Boba gasps sharply, giving a full-body shiver, “Gonna make me come.” 

The warm bubble that Din has been resting in abruptly becomes a bolt of fire shooting up his spine, and Din digs his fingers into Boba’s thighs, redoubling his efforts. He _wants_ it. He shifts to press his blunt nails into Boba’s hips, groaning around his mouthful of cock as Boba shivers under him. 

A moment later Boba comes with a snarl that tapers off into a pleased sigh, loosening his hold on Din and letting him reel back as he tries not to choke again, surprised by the amount of thick come that fills his mouth. Pulling away only nets him a spurt across his cheek, and Din finds that he doesn’t mind swallowing it down. 

Boba has gone completely boneless against the sheets, a deep sigh leaving him. “Can I move my arm?” 

Din scrambles for his helmet and taps Boba’s arm, remembering too late the come smeared across his cheek. 

Boba wastes no time in rolling them over again, tugging Din into his chest. 

“You-” Din starts but Boba simply shushes him softly, pressing a finger to his own lips. 

“Shh, I’m enjoying the moment.” 

Din snorts out a laugh, burrowing into Boba’s chest until he could get himself settled comfortably. It’s easy to relax, comfortable and warm against Boba’s chest, tangling their legs together. 

“ _Gar gotal gedin’la’ner._ “ Din murmurs and Boba looks down at him. 

“What do I do now?” 

Din shifts, settling into Boba’s side, sighing happily as his arm comes up to hold him. 

“ _Gendi’la_. You make me crazy, almost insane.” Din can feel his eyes threatening to slip closed, pleasant exhaustion settling over him. 

Boba strokes one broad palm down Din’s spine, resting his head on his folded arm and gazing at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought. Din is still not as comfortable with nudity as Boba clearly is, but he’s too comfortable curled into Boba’s side to bother moving, instead Din lets the moment float silently, sliding into a doze even as his body aches in an entirely pleasant way. Boba’s hand stops after a moment and Din actually considers complaining, but simply tilts his head to look up. 

Boba slowly turns to look down at him, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth. Din knows exactly what that smirk would taste like now, and he licks his lips at the thought. 

“Was actually going to have a talk with you before you decided to intercede upon my plans. Remember Meosus?” Boba waits just long enough for Din to give a tiny nod before continuing, “Well the man I met with has been killed, and his mining operation is now under contention. That’s not what interests me as much as who supposedly killed him.” 

Din sits up, propping himself up on his elbow and tilting his head to ask Boba to continue. 

“Supposedly it was a group of Mandalorians.” 

**Author's Note:**

> There wasn’t much plot in this section- don’t worry though, there will be A LOT more plot in the next one! I didn’t think that this series was going to grow legs and run off on its own but here we are.  
> Next section will be from Boba’s POV! 
> 
> Mando’a Translations:  
> “Din’ika” - straightforward diminutive  
> “Alor’ika” lit. Little leader, but again, diminutive  
> “Gar gotal gedin’la’ner.” - “You make me crazy”  
> Lit - you create/make almost insanity in myself.  
> I had a hell of a time with possessives in the online Mando’a dictionary, so hopefully my mashup isn’t too horrible. 
> 
> What words do you think Boba should learn next?  
> Please come and yell at me on Tumblr @ DinDlarin


End file.
